


Talking In Code

by Cupcakeking (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts, Multi, i don't want to make it sounds cheesy but yeah, some alchohal mention, voldemort's daughter - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-11 16:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7900543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Cupcakeking





	1. Chapter One

June 12th, 1991

Roughly 5:42 A.M.

I was woken up, far too early in the morning, by the most revolting sound ever known to man and beast alike. My cat Juniper was in the midst of retching up 'a hairball most foul', in the words of my late nan, on my bed. For the fourth time this week. 

"Goddammit cat!" I yelled, leaping up from my bed, just narrowly missing a gust of brown feathers and talons, that happened to be my late aunt Ione's nightmare hell beast, though she called him 'Oedipus' which is pretty gross, to be quite honest. 

I had managed to trip backwards over a stack of old moth eaten books and land on my bum with a loud thunk, and later a crash of the very same books I had just fallen over. 

"Persephone Eletta Wilks! Would you quiet down in there! It's five thirty A.M.!" I heard my mother yell from her bedroom, down the hall. 

 "Sorry mum!" I shouted back, standing up and dusting myself off, only to slip on a puddle of water left behind by the rainstorm the day before. "Well i guess I'm not going to get any more sleep then." I said to myself, getting up and grabbing a ratty old red Christmas jumper off my bed post. 

As I snuck out the door to go outside, dodging all the leaky spots in the ceiling, I spotted my mum's newest boyfriend slouched over the arm of the couch, covered in crisp crumbs with the telly blaring some sports news show, most likely rugby. He looked like a rugby type of man. I made sure to be extra careful while walking past him, I hadn't known him long, but I had experience with mum's past partners and they all tended to be pretty light sleepers, so I couldn't risk it. 

 As I closed the door and descended down the old rickety stairs into the back room of the coffee shop below, my senses were at once overwhelmed with the different sights and smells that accompany busy weekday mornings in central London. I briefly glanced through the doorway into the dimly lit lounge area to see men and women of various types all wearing some sort of grey business suit. Most looked quite solemn while others just looked quite bored, all were drinking coffee of some sort, and most were reading the paper. The weak early morning light was streaming in through the decoratively painted front windows, colouring the light that fell upon the cracked checkerboard linoleum.

The door to the alley made a high pitched squeaking noise as I wrenched it open with my shoulder, the last of the rats scurried away from the light pouting through the door, in a frenzied manner that only rats can master. I decided it was time to go check the post.

My walk to the post office was quite tedious, it was a walk I did every other day except Sunday's, being there was no post on Sunday. There was nothing special about today, though I felt it did have an element of different, there really was nothing. Nothing I could see, at least. 

When I walked in the slightly dirty glass doors, I realized that there was a young man at the desk. I decided to ignore him for the most part, as my heart almost beat out of my chest at the sight of him, there was usually no one but the kind old Mrs. Richmond, whom I had grown to like over the years that I had been making this walk on my own. I did not worry much though, even if my heart was beating out of my soul. Until he spoke, that is.

"Hey, kid! Isn't it a little early for someone as young as you to be out by yourself? Where's your mum?" He asked. 

"She's ill." I answered, though it was partially right, it was the lie I told most often. 

"Well what are you? Eight? Even if your mum was sick that's no reason for an eight year old to be out in the big city by herself." He said, it was then that I realized he was American. 

"I'm eleven," I said, defensive. "And what does it matter to you anyway? I can take care of myself, thank you very much." I said, retrieving my mail and rushing out the door. 

I stopped at a small park as it would still be a few hours until mum woke up. I watched the swings swing back and forth as I decided whether to sit on a swing or at a table. I finally decided on a swing, as it had been quite a while since I had used one. Almost five years I presume. The mail pile felt heavier than usual, though, from what I could see, it seemed like just the usual stack of unpaid bills that would just end up in the garbage, and supermarket fliers, and the odd disability benefit check. When that came it was like Christmas.

I found a heavier, rougher, slightly waxy envelope near the middle of the stack, as I rifled through it. The front came as quite a shock, it was addressed to a 'Miss Persephone Wilks, 386, pockmark street, Muggle London.'

"What does 'Muggle' mean?" I wondered to myself, my heart beating faster and faster, and my palms sweating as I traced the intricate design on the wax seal of the letter, my throat feeling funny and my eyes watering. I was already hyperventilating. 

I'd never got anything in the mail before, definitely not something this fancy. It was too different and I couldn't handle it. I jumped off the swing and ran home as fast as I possibly could, which was a hell of a lot faster than I had ever gone before.

 

"Mum! Mum! Looks what's come in the mail!" I shouted, running about the lounge when I'd gotten home, my panic attack apparently quite short lived. I spotted her by the dining table.

"Sephy, would you please hush dear, Mummy's got a migraine again." She whisper-groaned, tucking her dressing gown tighter around her abnormally thin frame. It was then that I noticed the lights had been turned off and the shades drawn. Her boyfriend seemingly gone too, as there was only a faint, lingering smell of tobacco and marijuana left. 

"Sorry mum, but look what's come in the mail for me!" I said, excitedly, sliding the envelope her way. 


	2. Chapter Two

"Sweetheart, you know mummy can't see when she has a migraine." Mum said, though she accepted the envelope. She ran her fingers around the edge of the wax seal, and flitted her fingers around the whole of the thick, waxy, envelope. A small, salty tear slid out of the corner of her eye and landed with a splatter on the dirty, white plastic dinner table. 

"Mum?" I asked, concerned as to why she was crying. 

"I'm alright dear, it's nothing." She said, wiping her face quickly before slowly getting up and placing her dirty mug in the already overflowing sink. "Read it to me, would you Sephy?" She asked, wincing at every step she took back. 

"O' course, mum." I said, wiping away my own silent tear so that she wouldn't know. I hated to see her like this. So small and utterly helpless. 

I slowly pried off the wax seal so that it stayed in one piece, it was much too pretty to be thrown away. The paper of the envelope was much thinner than normal envelope paper, and looked slightly brown-ish-yellow' as if someone had spilled tea or coffee on it. As my fingers just ghosted over the folded crease of the letter inside the envelope, getting ready to open it, there came a sharp knock at the door. 

"Would you get that please dear?" Mum asked, though I was already two strides away from her, in the direction of the door. 

I slowly undid all four locks, wondering all the while how in the hell they got past the alley door of the coffee shop, my heart beating faster and my palms sweating. Great, I thought to myself as I undid the last latch, two panic attacks in one day, and it's not even noon yet. The door swung in before I had a chance to kick it, so the old warped wood would open, as I usually did. That was when the hyperventilating started. And the tears. And the fainting. Great. 

 

When I came to, I was on the couch with a damp flannel over my forehead, the lights were back on which was a good sign, I suppose. I heard mum and a voice that I did not recognize speaking in the kitchen. I sat up, ever so slowly, and took off the flannel to put it in the laundry hamper. As I snuck past the kitchen to go into the bathroom to throw it in the hamper, I heard mum call me name. 

"There you are Sephy! Are you alright now?" Mum asked, her migraine seeming to have dissipated quite quickly. 

"Y-yes mum, I'm fine now." I assured her, throwing the flannel into the hamper and setting down right next to her, scooting my chair closer to her than the mystery woman across the table. "Who is this?" I whispered to mum, making her awkwardly laugh. 

"Sephy, you know that's rude!" She scolded, but answered me nonetheless, "This is Professor Minerva McGonagall, she has come to talk to us about that letter you received in the mail today." She explained quite shakily, as usual. I noticed that she had dressed in normal clothes instead of just her bathrobe a ratty old brown slippers, it was quite a different sight than what I was used to. The older woman across the table however, was dressed quite finely, with what looked like a black pantsuit, and a slate grey turtleneck underneath. It looked more expensive than my entire home, though for some odd reason she looked entirely out of place in it, as if she had never worn anything like it, or very rarely at least. Juniper was also sitting quite contently on her lap, purring and grooming herself, which was odd because I was the only one she would sit on, and mum sometimes. 

"Hello, dear. I am very pleased to meet you." The professor said, in a thick Scottish accent, extending her hand. I looked over at my mother, worried, she nodded her approval and so I shook her hand. 

"Y-you too, ma'am." I stuttered, feeling at that moment akin to one of the skittering alley rats. Not especially ratty, but very skittery. 

"So where were we... Ah yes, so you see Mrs. Riddle, Persephone here is a very skilled young witch! Much more than is expected of her age." The professor explained, making my head spin, what in all hell did she mean by witch?

"Please, Minerva, it's just Tia, or Ms. Wilks, none of that Mrs. Riddle bullshit, that was a long time ago, and you know it." mum said, licking her lips in a jittery sort of way, that she normally did when something was annoying her.  

"My sincerest apologies, Ms. Wilks, I had forgotten. Anyway, I understand that Persephone's eleventh birthday was yesterday, yes?" McGonagall inquired. 

"Oui." Mum answered, "That is correct." She translated, though I had a feeling the prof. knew what she had said. 

"Perfect. Well, then, I assume you know where to purchase her school supplies?" She asked, to which mum nodded in quiet affirmation. "Very well, we expect her on the first of September, no later." And with that, Juniper lept off and the professor, much to my astonishment, disappeared with a crack. 

 

"Mum?" I asked, after the professor had left, "what was that about? What did she mean by witch?" 

"She means you're a witch, just like I used to be." She explained, opening the kitchen sink window and lighting a cigarette. 

"That doesn't really clear anything up, you know." I replied, resting my head on the table. 

"Yeah. I know, but you'll figure it out eventually, you know what you need to and that's it." She said, finishing her cigarette and throwing the butt into the sink. "Get your coat we're going to get your school supplies." She said 


	3. Chapter Three

The tube ride downtown was fairly uneventful, just the normal. Though it was like a whole 'nother world when we stopped off and exited the station in a place I'd never been before. There were mostly regular everyday Londoners, and a few obviously American tourists, although there were a few peculiar souls hanging about the brick shops, and cobbled corners. Some seemed to be wearing robe-like garments, and even a couple women with large, black, pointy hats on, like a regular hallowe'en witch!

"Percy dear, do you mind finding a small coffee place with the name 'The leaky cauldron'? It should be right beside that record shop right there." Mum said, pointing in the direction of a weathered old wooden record shop sign.

"'Course mum, but why can't you see it?" I asked, leading her towards the quite obvious shop, large grimy windows and all.

"Not now mon cherie, thank you for finding it." She replied, brushing off my question and walking proudly into the shop, as if she had done it many times before, even though she had not been able to spot it just seconds before. I rushed in behind her. 

"Ah! There she be!" An old squabble-toothed man, who seemed to be the shop keeper, yelled, holding his arms open in a welcoming gesture. "What'll it be this time, Madame?" He asked.

"Not now Tom, I just need to borrow your wand to get through the back for a few hours." She explained, sounding exasperated brushing past him into what looked like the back room. I hurried to catch up with her. It astonished me how my mother acted in front of these people I had never met before, like she was some sort of noblewoman, almost the opposite of how she was at home, with her steady flow of partners, and less steady flow of disability and welfare checks. 

"Oh course, Mrs. Riddle, right this way," old Tom said, with a sweeping gesture of his arms and a slight mocking look in his eye. 

We arrived at a brick wall at the back of the building, the trains going by and scattering dust from the bricks onto the ground and my shoes. Mother made a grunting sound and held her hand out in the direction of the old barkeep and he handed her a long knotted piece of wood, looking everything a witches wand. She grabbed it in her once-delicate pianist fingers and tapped a few bricks. Constantia Wilks was most likely beautiful at one point, far into her past, but at this point in time she looked quite dead. She had a weathered face of one that had been through many hardships, her once blue eyes were just a dull grey, and her silky black hair was now ragged, dead and mousy.

Shortly following the last tap of the last brick the wall started rumbling something fierce and almost instantaneously started falling away from itself to make a grand brick archway looking into a cobble road. 

"Merci, Tom," mum thanked the elderly man, placing his wand back in his hand and grabbing my hand to step through the arch way just as it started closing back up. The cobblestones hurt my feet through my too-tight shoes that pinched my toes.

"Mum?" I asked "where are we?" The place was very unfamiliar.

"This, my dear, is Wizarding London!" She exclaimed, a newfound fire igniting in her eyes, looking every bit at home. 

I struggled to keep up with her long strides as she weaved past and through all the people and animals, most everyone was wearing some sort of robes or fancy 1800's getups, it was surely a sight to see. 

"Here we are!" She stopped abruptly, causing me to almost topple over. I looked up past her shoulders to see a large magnificent white building, closely resembling the American White House. "Gringotts Bank! This is the last stop before we begin your school shopping." Mum announced, proudly walking through the front doors, her meek attitude long gone. 

I trailed behind her, taking in the grand granite floors and the Crystalline chandelier's swinging in the slight breeze brought about by the swinging of the great double doors. The clerk and teller desks were manned by goblin-like creatures that all looked infinitely wiser than any regular human I had ever met. Their ears pointing farther up to the heavens as we made our way down the isle, seemingly headed to the front desk, with the most important looking goblin yet. His ears taller than the rest. 

"I wish to access the Wilks-Riddle vault." Mum stated calmly placing an intricately wrought iron key on the large marble desk. The head goblin did not look up until exactly 24.36 seconds after the placing of the key. His eyes seemed to widen a fraction at the sight of it but it was gone just as quick as it appeared.

"Very well," The goblin agreed in a croaky, grating voice that sent shivers down my spine, and not in a good way like in the cheap romance novels we have around the flat. He lept off his stool and started waddling away, mum following him. 

The three of us walked about three and a half minutes until we got to a track of some sort, with a small metal cart just barely balancing on the tracks. I could feel sweat pooling at the base of my neck. This didn't seem safe, alarm bells were going off in my head. Mum saw my discomfort. 

"It'll be alright Sephy, mummy's here with you, nothing will go wrong, I promise. I've been on this plenty of times." She assured holding my hand as she got in first to show me it was fine and safe. Nothing happened so I followed suit. 

The ride was less than five minutes, which was not good. It went so fast I was sure I heart and lungs would fly out of my mouth, which I knew was scientifically impossible, though it still scared me. 

"Here we are." The goblin grunted when we stopped in front of a magnificently crafted wraught iron door. The three of us clambered out of the trolley and watched it zoom away down the track the second my feet hit solid ground. The goblin's long spider like fingers wrapped around the key, excruciatingly slowly, as if he was caressing it rather than opening a lock. The actual opening of the lock and door itself was also extremely slow. 

The heavy iron door swung open with the most blood-curdling iron on rock grinding sound that was probably ever heard by human ears. Just inside the vault were stacks and chests of large gold coins and smaller silver coins as well as any kind of jewelry and pretties imaginable. It was more money than I had ever seen in my life, something though just didn't quite make sense. 

"Mum? Why are we so poor when we have all this?" I asked, causing mum's face to go red.

"Percy, that's not something you ask in public." She hissed quietly while filling a small leathery sack with many large gold coins. Though she still answered. "This is technically not my money. It's mostly yours, left by your father." 

"Oh." I replied, one question answered and three more appeared in its place. 

 


End file.
